


Hold On, Hold Tight

by bollatay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Gore, Curses, Drabble, M/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 22:19:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bollatay/pseuds/bollatay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Afterwards, the first thing he’s aware of is the death grip he has on Gabriel’s hand. Second, is the anger that’s searing through him."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold On, Hold Tight

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from [this song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1W_a1C9uOMM).
> 
> Because my favourite punching bag is youuuuu (Sammy)!

He’s sprawled in the darkness, black as the eyes of the demon that did this, still frantically trying to refill his lungs, shaken from the fall. Awareness is returning, but it’s slow, like swimming through molasses reaching desperately for the surface. Years of ‘the life’ have him taking stock of injuries, surroundings, other living things... There’s an archangel scrambling over his legs, trying to right himself.

That’s about all Sam manages to understand before pain hits him like a golem’s fist to the chest. He might make a sound or maybe the air just abandons his starved lungs because all of a sudden he’s choking and his throat is working on ground glass. There’s a fire digging between his ribs, every limb is rigid, muscles seizing, but he has to know; has to see... touch.

Strong fingers grasp his shaking wrist before he can make contact with the flames. 

Two pinpricks of light hover him for a breath and when they shutter Sam recognises the golden hue.

_Snap!_

A camping lantern flickers to life to his right and Gabriel searches Sam’s face for a moment before turning his gaze back to the dagger embedded in the flesh of his side. Sam wants to speak, he wants to beg healing from the angel but his vocal chords won’t comply. He settles for shouting his pleas and demands inside his own head and hoping Gabriel hasn’t chosen this moment to start respecting his privacy.

“Shit, shit, motherfucking demon bitch-whore.”

Sam wants to laugh at the muttered words drifting through to his fogged mind. They’re the most hysterical thing in the world because he once saw Gabriel playing a doctor on TV and thought the white coat suited him but right now he’s scoring a 0/10 for bedside manner.

But then there’s a hand in his and Gabriel is leaning close. “Hold on Sammy, just hold on. This is going to be unpleasant.”

Understatement of the year right there; this time Sam knows he screams, thinks he loses consciousness as well but it’s hard to tell because the world is made of colours that shouldn’t exist and there’s no telling which way is up.

Afterwards, the first thing he’s aware of is the death grip he has on Gabriel’s hand. Second, is the anger that’s searing through him, hand in hand with pain that spikes through his limbs. It’s like being hopped up on demon blood all over again and he feels instantly ready to welcome Lucifer. His body is traitorous but his mind is his own.

“What-?” A choking whisper is all he can manage but he knows it’ll be heard.

“It’s a curse; the dagger was just a vessel.” Gabriel lifts their clasped hands into Sam’s eye line and he sees his own blood turning black, veins writhing and pulsating beneath the thin skin of his wrist as the curse digs itself deeper like a parasite.

Gabriel’s face is close to his side and when Sam strains he can see the angel’s eyes are closed in concentration. His other hand is placed over the blackened wound, blood gushing between strong fingers. Sam has seen more than his fair share of injuries; the blood doesn’t bother him, but frankly the quantity is alarming.

“I can’t draw it out.” Gabriel croaks, and anything that makes an angel sound like that (shocked and horrified) cannot be good news. “I need to heal the wound before you bleed out but I’ll be sealing it in. I can’t remove the object of the curse because that would be your life force, your soul and I can’t change the core violence because this is demon work; it _is_ violence.”

Gabriel looks up with wild eyes. Desperation clings to him along with a question.

“I might be able to redirect it; channel the violence into another sin. Wrath into...”

There’s been an unexplainable trust between them for a long time now, so Sam puts all his effort into making his next words audible.

“Do it.”


End file.
